#34: Fuzzy Navel / ep.3
Across the counter from Mikoto sat two women.
One: Shandy, proprietress of the girls’ bar Antiqua, her amber eyes glinting with obvious delight.
The other: Meiji Stationery coworker Shirai Rinko, the earlier tension between them now softened by familiarity and drink.
Round three of the cocktail-guessing game: Mikoto would make whatever she chose to make and serve it herself. The drink meant to bring peace between two women who didn’t get along, meant to get them both properly drunk — Mikoto already had it decided in her mind.
Time to find a base spirit. Just as her eyes turned to the cabinet lined with bottles, Shandy offered a suggestion.
“Making it the ordinary way wouldn’t be much fun. Might I add one condition?”
“Please go easy on me. I’m still a beginner.”
“Simple enough. Work a shake into the process somewhere. I’d love for Rinko-san to enjoy the sight of you shaking a cocktail too.”
“That’s the shaky-shaky thing, right? I want to see it.”
Naturally, Shandy had already read her hand completely.
Mikoto let out a wry laugh, turning over how exactly to work a shake into the cocktail she’d planned.
Fuzzy Navel.
True to its name — “fuzzy,” ambiguous — the drink’s charm lies in its indecisive, neither-here-nor-there flavor. Ingredients: peach liqueur and orange juice. Method: a build, simply combined together in the glass. Not a single cocktail guide Mikoto had ever read called for shaking it.
Shaking, to begin with, exists to round off the sharp edges of high-proof spirits, or to blend ingredients that don’t naturally combine well. Reaching for a shake on something that only needed a build felt, if anything, like showing off for its own sake.
“Then let’s change the recipe. I want something actually worth shaking.”
“You’re starting to think like a real bartender.”
Mikoto realized it now. This game was testing everything she’d learned about cocktails up to this point. She wanted Shandy to acknowledge it — wanted to get one over on her, and to catch her interest besides.
“Just so you know, I’m not becoming a bartender!”
“Do let me know if you ever want to quit your day job. I’d be happy to raise you into a proper one.”
“We’ll see about that. I prefer being the one who gets drunk, not the one doing the drunk-making.”
With that, Mikoto pulled a bottle of rum from the cabinet.
Among the four major base spirits commonly used in cocktails, rum — distilled from sugarcane byproducts or molasses — carries a natural sweetness all its own. Even Shandy sometimes added rum in place of sugar syrup, for a subtle sweetness and depth.
“Then today, let’s call this a special rum-based recipe.”
Mikoto set to work on her third drink.
Measuring rum with the jigger into a slightly larger shaker. This already broke from the standard Fuzzy Navel recipe, but as long as peach and orange lingered somewhere in the mix, ambiguously, that would do. Rough around the edges, maybe — but “ambiguous” was the whole point in the end.
Next, the measured peach liqueur and orange curaçao went into the shaker. Thinking ahead to topping it off with orange juice later, she went heavier on the peach, lighter on the curaçao — just a spoonful.
“Quite the deft hand you’ve got there.”
“Someone gave me a rather demanding order, after all.”
“What an ill-mannered customer that must have been.”
Watching Shandy laugh, light and rolling, Mikoto traced a ring of ice around the inside of a low rocks glass. After pre-chilling the glass, she filled the shaker with ice and shook. Antiqua, quiet tonight with no wired radio playing, filled instead with the sound of ice.
Standing straight, angling her body so the shaker wouldn’t go flying toward the customers, she swung her arm. There was something strange about a shaker — the moment her fingers settled against that egg-shaped stainless vessel, her spine seemed to straighten on its own.
“So cool…”
“Fufu. You really do like Mikoto-san, don’t you.”
“If I didn’t like her, I wouldn’t have quit my job.”
“Some lingering attachment, then. To a job selling one-night-only dreams.”
“…I liked being close to my customers’ worries.”
Listening to Rinko begin talking, hesitant, about her own work — sex work catering to women — Mikoto kept her focus on the cocktail.
“Most of my clients were struggling with how to live. People who’d hit a wall trying to love the ordinary way, and failed.”
“Or people who wanted to love, but didn’t know how. Women without the resolve to love other women.”
Rinko nodded silently and continued.
“…Those are the ones who, after thinking it over and agonizing the whole way, finally come to someone like me, last of all. Can’t talk to friends about it, but a stranger in sex work… no. I think they figure someone carrying the same struggle would actually understand.”
“A refuge for troubled women, then. That sounds like genuinely meaningful work.”
“…Thank you. But there’s no love in it, just the act itself. I liked Kurosu-san too much to do anything that felt like betraying that.”
“A rather clumsy way to love, isn’t it.”
“I know that already.”
Thanks to Shandy playing listener, Rinko’s real situation came into focus. Sex work — a job the world tends to look down on — had become, for her, a kind of safety net for the hearts of struggling women.
If Mikoto herself hadn’t found her own resolve, she might have sought out someone like that too. She’d more or less settled her own conclusion about loving Shandy by now, but she understood exactly how those troubled clients must have felt.
Pouring the shaken cocktail into the glass, Mikoto spoke.
“So that’s why you said you wanted to protect me. Because you felt I was being lured into loving a woman, by Shandy-san.”
“…That’s right. I didn’t want you to suffer, to get hurt. Someone who can love men normally, agonizing over their own nature for no reason — it felt like such a waste.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
Rinko lowered her head without a word. Mikoto topped the rocks glass off with orange juice and gave it a light stir with the bar spoon.
“I struggled with it myself at first, but it helped me find my resolve. Now that I’ve realized I can love women too, it’s actually been a little fun. Thinking the whole world counts as potential romantic prospects — there’s never a dull moment.”
“Fufu. Planning to turn the entire planet into your own harem?”
“I just might manage it, you know? Kotone’s already proven I’ve got the kind of face the world tends to favor.”
“Saying that about your own looks yourself now?”
“You said the same about yourself once, Shandy-san, so we’re even.”
Mikoto licked the bar spoon to taste the cocktail in the rocks glass. Her improvised Fuzzy Navel variation came out, exactly as expected, thoroughly ambiguous in flavor.
“Mikoto-san, could I trouble you for a spoonful of grenadine to finish it off? That should make it even more fuzzy.”
“You can tell what I’m making without even tasting it?”
“A cocktail is far easier to read than push-and-pull.”
Following Shandy’s instruction, Mikoto added the grenadine and tasted again.
The orange’s tartness hit first, joined by the grenadine’s flavor. The sweetness that followed was even more complex — peach, orange, grenadine, and rum all melting together into something that couldn’t quite be pinned to any single one of them.
She had no idea what exactly she was drinking, but the balance of sweet and tart made for something genuinely addictive.
“Thank you for waiting. A peach-and-orange cocktail — the Fuzzy Navel. Rum-style.”
Setting the rocks glass down on its coaster, Mikoto steeled herself for one last line — pressing down the smile threatening to burst free from her own teeth. Embarrassing as it was, there was nothing left to do but commit.
“…If you’re both going to join my harem, would you mind melting together nicely, just like this cocktail? Shandy-san, Rinko-san?”
Beside Shandy, who wore a loaded, meaningful smile, Rinko’s mouth opened and closed uselessly.
“I don’t mind at all. I never disliked Rinko-san to begin with.”
Shandy dangled her glass in front of Rinko, as if urging a toast.
“What will you do, Rinko-san?”
“…If I drink this, does that mean I’m accepting Kurosu-san two-timing me?”
“Now, I wonder. It might not even stop at two-timing. Three-timing, four-timing. Perhaps every person on Earth becomes a rival in love.”
“I don’t want that. I want to have her all to myself…”
“If that’s the way Mikoto-san chooses to love, I won’t refuse it.”
“…I’m going to use the restroom for a moment.”
With that, Rinko asked Shandy where it was and stepped away from her seat. Setting her Fuzzy Navel glass back on its coaster, Shandy fixed Mikoto with those amber eyes.
“Quite the bold move there, Mikoto-san.”
“I figured Shirai-san wouldn’t let this go otherwise, if I didn’t say something like that.”
“I actually thought you meant it sincerely, you know? Like one of those dubious ads in the back pages of a magazine — wanting a bathtub full of cash with naked beauties lounging around you.”
“D— do I really seem like I’d have that kind of means?!”
“My, my, snapping right back to your real self like that. It was such a lovely act — I’d have preferred you kept the bluff up to the very end.”
Recalling everything she’d just said, Mikoto’s face flushed hot. Unable to face Shandy directly, she turned away at once and went through the motions of dusting off bottles in the cabinet.
“Still a fledgling as a bartender, but for a shy one, that was a wonderfully composed performance, Mikoto-san.”
“Th— thank you.”
“Won’t you show me your face? I’d like to give you a reward kiss.”
“…I’m busy cleaning the cabinet right now. Maybe later.”
“Take all the time you’d like tending to it. Antiqua would be delighted to be polished by your own hands, Mikoto-san.”
However composed she tried to appear, her heartbeat refused to settle. Holding the cloth, terrified she might actually drop a bottle, she couldn’t focus on anything at all.
Mind elsewhere entirely. If Rinko came back now, there was no way she could manage the same composure as before.
Into Mikoto’s back, filled with that tension and embarrassment, Shandy spoke.
“You know, I think becoming an adult means carrying more and more things on your shoulders as you live.”
Beefeater, Smirnoff, Bacardi, El Jimador.
Beyond the four major spirits that wouldn’t fit in the storage freezer: whiskeys like Macallan and Four Roses, Hennessy for brandy. The squared bottle of Cointreau, a vivid red Campari, the round, adorable shape of Mozart. And not just Western liquors — even shōchū, like Nikaidō or Kirishima.
Just counting the names she recognized, there were already this many. Every one of them a drink you could only truly enjoy once you’d become an adult.
Silently taking in the symbols of adulthood crowded onto the shelves, Mikoto listened to Shandy’s words.
“Speaking of what we carry — family, the people close to us, or expectations from work. This feeling I’ve been directing at you, too, must have weighed heavily on you, Mikoto-san. Finding your resolve must have been difficult.”
“…Yes.”
Shandy’s warm words sank into her heart.
“And today, you’ve taken on one more thing. Something you never needed to carry in the first place — becoming ‘an independent, grown woman who doesn’t even need Rinko-san’s protection.’”
She’d resolved not to hurt Rinko, not to destroy her relationship with her.
Growing strong enough that Rinko no longer felt the need to protect her, resigning herself to letting go — that might be an impossibly tall order. There was no concrete method for it, and even if Mikoto rose to great success or amassed enormous wealth, nothing guaranteed Rinko’s feelings would ever really settle.
“Can something like that even be done?”
“…I think it’ll be difficult. But I’ve come to know the sadness Shirai-san carries. I can’t return her feelings, but I don’t want to push her away either.”
“Switching your affections to Rinko-san now, are we?”
“Please don’t make me say it again. I’m devoted to you, Shandy-san, and only you.”
“And yet you’d still stand by Rinko-san’s side. Do you understand how it feels, hearing the person you love declare an affair right in front of you?”
Shandy was human too, after all. Mikoto could easily imagine her feeling at least a flicker of jealousy over Rinko.
“I understand. It weighs on me too. I wanted to look only at you, but…”
“…Sorry for testing you like that.”
Shandy called Mikoto’s name quietly. Somehow settling the flush spreading across her whole body, Mikoto turned and met those amber eyes.
Shandy’s eyes were wide open. Utterly, entirely serious.
“Then I’ll trust you, Mikoto-san. ‘I want to grow, so I never have to make Rinko-san’s heart rain again.’ Is that right?”
“That’s how I want to be. Though even talking about growth, all I seem to show is worry and weakness.”
“Worrying isn’t weakness.”
Beckoned closer, Mikoto propped her cheek in her hand against the counter — the same way Shandy always did. Shandy’s own hand moved to stroke slowly through Mikoto’s hair.
“Take the character for ‘person,’ add ‘to worry for,’ and you get ‘kind.’ Carrying the weight of someone’s expectations, their pressure, and still worrying over that same person — that, I think, is what makes a kind adult.”
“Should I take that as a compliment?”
“Take it as being fallen for. You’ve taken one more step toward being an adult. There, there. Good girl.”
“Treating me like a child now…”
“If that frustrates you, become an adult faster, won’t you? Fufu.”
Shandy’s smile carried a faint shadow of worry in it, and it stung, just slightly.
She wanted to put Shandy’s mind at ease as soon as possible. Which meant she needed to grow — for Rinko’s sake too — until reaching up on her toes no longer felt like reaching at all.
The expectations she now carried weighed heavily.
Heavy as they were, Mikoto wanted, somehow, to live up to them.
“…Shandy-san. Would you go on a date with me, after this?”
“And just leave your mistress, Rinko-san, behind?”
“I’ll come up with some excuse and send her home.”
“My, how cruel.”
“There’s something I need to tell you. That I won’t leave Alice alone — just as I promised, back in Yokohama.”
Shandy’s hand stopped moving. Her amber eyes wavered, unsettled.
Her porcelain skin had taken on a faint color. Whether from embarrassment or the alcohol, Mikoto couldn’t say.
“Saying it now would spoil the moment, wouldn’t it?”
“I want to make the vow right now, this instant. That I’ll never betray Alice, from here on. That I feel for you just as much as you’ve ever felt for me — maybe more.”
“That sounds like something a cheating man would say.”
“Let me prove it’s not. Whatever proof you want, I’ll give it.”
“And what proof would that even—”
She took Shandy’s lips, still unsettled. No more than this, for now. Their hot tongues tangled together, exchanging feeling across the counter. Mikoto glanced sideways down the hallway. Still no sign of Rinko.
“Worried about Rinko-san?”
“Of course I am. I’d rather she didn’t see this.”
“…Look only at me, right now.”
“…Hai.”
Caught glancing sideways for Rinko, Mikoto’s head was captured between Shandy’s hands. Even that flicker of ordinary jealousy, glimpsed for once, was somehow endearing, and the kiss showed no sign of stopping.
Her heartbeat and flush, briefly settled, climbed without limit again. A racing, desperate desire filled both body and mind.
Only then did Mikoto clearly recognize one single, unfulfilled part of her own body growing damp.
—I can love Shandy.
As a good friend. As someone who understands her. As a good teacher.
And as a good partner, too.
The sound of running water from the back of the shop pulled their lips apart, neither one quite deciding to stop first. Shandy’s skin, this time, had colored a clear, unmistakable red.
“You look just like a girl in love, Shandy-san.”
“That goes for you too — a maraschino cherry. Red, sweet, and impossible not to reach for.”
“Then reach for it, please. I’ll be reaching for you too.”
“Ah… My apologies.”
“Wait, hold on…?!”
Caught off guard by the unexpected rejection, Mikoto’s composure shattered instantly. Firing off rapid-fire “why?!”s, she watched Shandy’s brows bend into a troubled slant.
“It’s Bloody Mary day.”
“Ah, ah, I see…”
“Such a shame, after you’d worked up the resolve. Well, being unable to commit even after committing is very like you, Mikoto-san. Fufu.”
Bloody, naturally, couldn’t be helped.
The moment relief washed over her at the truth behind the rejection, Shandy fixed her with a bold, unshaken smile.
“Which is exactly why I’ll be spoiling you plenty instead. Do show me the adorable sounds you make, reaching up on your toes to be an adult.”
“Ngh, ah…”
Imagining a one-sided assault of her own, Mikoto could no longer stay standing. Her knees still trembled from the kiss before. She sank down, right there, into the bartender’s own sanctuary. Simply too embarrassing.
“…Huh, where’s Kurosu-san?”
“Tense from playing bartender — apparently her stomach’s acting up.”
“Oh, is she okay? I’ve got medicine if she needs it.”
“…I— I’m fine. Already settled down, really, I’m fine!”
Unlike Shandy’s effortless, unbothered greeting of Rinko, Mikoto couldn’t manage the same composure. Determined to push past the embarrassment and her own worry over Rinko, she pinched the back of her hand with everything she had. Wake up, Mikoto. Adults hold themselves together.
“Now then, this round of the game — my win, naturally. After all, I guessed every single cocktail you served, Mikoto-san.”
“Y— yes. A complete defeat on my part. Guess there was never any beating a professional at a cocktail contest…”
“Then let’s toast, Rinko-san. To Mikoto-san’s kindness and effort, for bringing our friendship back together.”
Reluctant, Rinko raised her glass anyway, facing Shandy.
“…Not to you. To Kurosu-san.”
“Yes, let’s all get along.”
Glasses met in a light, ringing toast.
The two of them — or rather, the one-sided declaration of war Rinko had thrown down — reached, for now, a fittingly fuzzy resolution, sealed with a toast over Fuzzy Navels.
“By the way, this glass is discontinued — runs about a hundred thousand yen. I couldn’t possibly cover it if you broke it. Fufu.”
“Eek…?!”
Mikoto and Rinko recoiled in unison.
—Tonight’s game of love: total defeat for Mikoto.
＊
With Rinko murmuring “I should really head home soon,” the three of them left Antiqua behind at the edge of Roppongi. Leaving the cleanup and closing to Shandy, Mikoto walked Rinko to the subway, Roppongi Station.
Past five in the evening, the sun beginning to lean.
The cigarette smoke drifting from the station-front smoking area, the swarm of touts appearing from nowhere — things she’d once found irritating to walk past — barely registered with her anymore.
“Kurosu-san, I’m really sorry about today! It must have been a lot to take in. But I really do like you.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s fine if that’s all you say right now. You don’t need to answer.”
Rinko forced a smile and continued.
“I’m used to love that’s just pain, at this point. It’s fine if you never say it back, fine if you never look my way. Ah, does that make me sound like a real handful of a woman?”
“Don’t worry about it. I know plenty of women who are far more of a handful than that.”
The moment she’d shed her jacket and changed back into her own clothes, Mikoto’s usual self resurfaced. Reaching up on her toes was fine for a while, but keeping it up constantly was exhausting.
“Someone like Charlotte-san, you mean?”
“Yeah, she might be the biggest handful of all.”
“Does that mean you actually like difficult women, Kurosu-san?”
“I think everyone’s a handful, more or less, in their own way.”
“I mean, I guess that’s true…”
Probably running back through everyone she’d ever known, Rinko furrowed her brow and let out a sigh. From what she’d said, Rinko herself seemed to have dated her fair share of complicated people too — more than Mikoto had, if anything.
Standing close to strangers’ hearts, giving them a single night’s dream — Rinko’s side job was, in its own way, the ultimate service industry. Mikoto genuinely admired her for it.
“At the office, Aomi’s a handful too, and I never know what to say around Hibiya’s Sanae-san, and I have no idea how to even approach Akazawa. Then there’s Kotone, too.”
“…………….”
The moment Kotone’s name came up, Rinko dropped her gaze, visibly uncomfortable. Mikoto remembered — Rinko had reacted this exact same way once before.
“What’s wrong, Shirai-san? Did you stop being a Kotone fan or something?”
“No, I haven’t. Kotone-san’s still my favorite. She’s still my favorite, but…”
“Something hard to say?”
“No… um… it’s really… I mean, I quit already so I guess it’s fine to talk about it, and since it’s about your sister I figure you’ll keep it quiet, but…”
“Hm?”
Pressing Rinko, oddly reluctant, Mikoto watched her glance around at the surrounding crowd before leaning in close and whispering into her ear.
“My last customer. It was Kotone-san.”
Kotone had slept with Rinko — or been slept with by her.
Whether to marvel at the coincidence, lament how small the world was, or laugh it off as some joke of Rinko’s own — Mikoto had no idea how to react at all.
What finally slipped out of her mouth was, in the end, thoroughly, hopelessly ambiguous.
“No waaay…?!”